I had fished long enough to switch-out and persistently work a Yo Zuri jerkbait. It never occurred to me to snap that plug onto my medium power 5 1/2 rod, even though it was obvious to me I couldn't jerk it around as tightly on my 7-foot medium-heavy Speed Stick. Maybe that's because I liked the rhythm-retrieve with some jerk to it.
So did my first bass of the year, somewhere around 18 or 19 inches. I wanted to release it quickly, rather than pull out the measuring tape. It struck the plug near the end of a retrieve, and loomed a lot larger in the somewhat stained water.
I continued to throw that plug, while Brian stuck to various Chatterbaits, both of us agreeing the fishing got boring. I felt like going in early, but never opened my mouth on that account. Joe Santiago, of the NJ Multispecies Podcast and Mayhem on Facebook, famously said, "You have to suffer for the fish." I felt willing to do just that, rather than give up, when Brian had said he wasn't giving up. We had been fishing in the wind, which had come up suddenly from the north. The lake is shallow. The graph kept reading between 2 1/2 and 3 feet. Brian had told me its deepest water is 7 or 8 feet. About 150 acres of water in total. That shallow water along the south shore was stirred up and dingy. We decided to get out of the wind and headed north at the full speed of Brian's electric motor.
We found the water not clear but not off-color. What I call normal. I immediately took my 5 1/2-foot rod in hand, and snapped on a Mini-King spinnerbait, fishing it in full focus, despite the cloud of pessimism I refreshed by watching people on shore closely. People out for walks. Sitting lotus style. And so on. All of which felt more fascinating than watching a movie does to me these days. Relieved the boredom.
Soon, I got hit. The bass jumped and threw the hook. All 10 inches of it. But a bass.
At some point, Brian said, "We'll fish the dusk bite."
"OK."
His lake, his boat. I wasn't going to be a bad guest. Besides, I've fished for many decades. I have some knowledge of what's possible. You don't give into despair just because you haven't got another bass in the boat for three hours. I suffered despair when I admitted it had got boring. But in the end, the likes of that might make it a more interesting day.
I was still thinking of what Santiago had said about suffering. People wear T-Shirts with his words on them now. Do I really quote him on my new website? (Once it's up.) The spectre of Ayn Rand was present. "Not any kind of suffering." You never affirm it, according to her philosophy, so what about my own?
Honesty is the best policy. Whoever said that first, the words are popular. My back ached. I had felt despair. Boredom. I knew what the back ache means. Tomorrow at work... Yes, it hurt until near the end of my shift. But it got better. Was it worth it? At the end of my shift, I knew--yes it was. So, honestly. Who doesn't suffer for the fish? But we get better in part because being out there is very, very healthy. People take antidepressants when spending time in nature will do. We also get better because we do nothing stupid in the process.
I once heard a reference to Santiago saying that he said preparing his boat is a pain in the ass. Honesty again. You can appreciate the prep work, but who hasn't felt preparing for a day of fishing takes "too" much time? Even if you get over the feeling in a minute or two, you've felt it, right?
I stuck to the Mini-King. We were out of the wind and in clearer water, so that tiny 16th-ounce spinnerbait fit the ticket, in my opinion. I got plenty of distance casting it on Power Pro braid.
Brian hooked a 10- or 12-incher that leapt and threw the hook. Still using a Chatterbait. With a mouthful of a trailer.
Again.
"I just got hit," Brian said. "It was a dink."
Earlier he had said the little ones push it aside.
I cast to the spot. Brian doesn't mind that. I don't either, if I open my mouth when I get hit, and invariably I do. Nothing happened--until the spinnerbait came near the end of the retrieve. The bass would have measured somewhere around 15 inches.
Fishing is a mystery no one has ever plumbed to the fullest. To ordinary reckoning, why would catching another bass complete my day? Why would a whole new mood of optimism come over me? Indeed, why would I even have caught that bass?
At sunset, no less. We continued to fish. In a much more normal manner of anticipation. Nothing happened but something had.
We moderns think we're really smart because we know about chemistry. More specifically, endorphins. I could do a little Google research, but before I might do that, I'm going to point out there must be a link between ecological patterns and endorphins.
So much for a tough day under a fairly severe cold front. Temps in the 50's for an afternoon high. Even so, in all that sunlight, I wore just a Nasa T-shirt for a while. Most of the time, I had a Woolrich shirt on under a winter coat. When we pulled away from the ramp in the dusk, it was 48 degrees.
